blairnightshade

[blairnightshade]

How to burn a Vampire(And still miss him)

A little silly experiment I want to try. So enjoy! (eng is not exactly my first language, but I tried to make sure everything was expressed properly😎. Grammarly has my heart😍)

word count: 868

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter One: The Girl Who Smiled at Monsters

The sun was unusually gentle that October afternoon, casting long golden beams over cracked tombstones and crunching leaves under Blair Anneliese Ragors’ boots. Her curls bounced as she walked, and her voice rose into the air with a cheery hum—an old hymn passed down by her grandmother that didn’t quite match the cemetery backdrop. Still, she sang it with ease, as if the dead deserved lullabies.

“This one’s for you, Mr. Evermore,” she said, kneeling in front of a crumbling headstone mostly devoured by moss. “I brought you daisies. They're late, but so am I.”

She laid the bouquet down and sat cross-legged on the cool grass, pulling a thermos from her canvas satchel. The cocoa was lukewarm now, but still sweet and spiced the way she liked it—extra cinnamon, a pinch of cayenne, and the kind of warmth that made ghosts linger just a little longer.

Blair sipped it slowly, watching sunlight dance through the rust-colored leaves above. Most people hated cemeteries. But to her, they were quiet, honest, and brimming with stories. She loved stories. Especially the forgotten ones. Especially the ones that didn’t have happy endings—because they deserved to be heard too.

She adjusted her vintage camera strap, finger resting lightly on the shutter button, then froze.

A gust of wind blew through the graveyard, sharp and sudden, and she turned toward the hill, where the skeletal remains of a once-grand church loomed. Vines clung to its broken windows. Its bell tower was cracked open like a rotted tooth. Every instinct told her not to go inside.

So naturally, she did.

Blair made her way across the path, boots crunching against broken gravel. She pushed open the warped wooden door and stepped inside. The air shifted.

It was cold—not autumn cold, but *wrong* cold. Still, she didn’t shiver. She just whispered, “Wow.”

Sunlight slanted through stained-glass ruins, painting the floor in fractured blues and reds. Dust floated in the beams like something alive. The altar stood bare. Cracked pews lay in uneven rows, some collapsed entirely. Her camera clicked as she slowly turned in a circle, capturing decay and beauty in equal measure.

That’s when she felt it.

A pressure. Like eyes on her back. Like something ancient holding its breath.

She turned sharply.

He stood near the altar.

A man—tall, still, more shadow than substance. His clothes were dark and formal, old-fashioned and pristine despite the dust around him. His face was chiseled, pale like marble left in moonlight too long. His hair was black, neatly combed back, and his eyes—

Oh.

His eyes were empty.

No, not empty. Cold. Too still to be living.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at her, like someone trying to decide whether she was hallucination, trespasser, or prey.

Blair cleared her throat. “If this is a ‘you’re not supposed to be here’ kind of moment, you could say it less murdery.”

The man didn’t move. But the shadows around his feet curled tighter.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said at last, voice low and clear, with a strange, musical accent. Slavic, maybe. Old.

Blair stepped forward instead of back. “I’ve been here every week. It’s kind of my thing. You’re the new guy.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise? Displeasure?

“You don’t belong in this place.”

“I bring cocoa and flowers. I belong wherever I want,” she said with a grin, holding up her thermos like proof.

He stepped forward, and for the first time she realized something strange: he didn’t make a sound. No footsteps. No breath.

Her smile wavered.

“You’re not supposed to exist,” she whispered.

“Neither are weird girls like you,, who lacks in having the awarness of potential danger.”

Blair blinked. Her lips tug into a taunting smile “So what? Are you a monster or something.”

He tilted his head. “Do you believe in vampires?”

She shrugged, casual. “I believe in a lot of things. Ghosts. Magic. Time not being real. Kindness winning in the end.”

The man—creature—closed the space between them with frightening speed. He was just there suddenly, in front of her, tall enough to blot out the sun behind him.

“You should be afraid,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I have killed hundreds. Thousands. I have drained blood from lovers and liars and kings. I have watched civilizations crumble, and I have forgotten the names of most of the people I’ve buried.”

Blair looked up at him and smiled again—softer this time.

“That’s really sad.”

He stiffened. “You mock me.”

“No. I just think you’re lonely. That’s all.”

He stared at her for a long moment, utterly still. Then, with something like disgust—or was it discomfort?—he turned away.

“Leave. While you still can.”

She hesitated, then pulled a small cinnamon roll wrapped in foil from her satchel and set it on the edge of the altar like an offering.

“For you,” she said. “Because even monsters deserve snacks.”

Then she turned and left, boots echoing in the silence.

Dimitri watched her go, the scent of cinnamon and blood still hanging in the air. He should have vanished the moment she arrived. He should have killed her.

But he didn’t.

He looked at the cinnamon roll.

He didn’t eat it.

But he didn’t throw it away, either.

______________________________________________________________

IDK IDK IDK , this is so stupid. My first time posting a work, tell me if (whomever reads it) like it... Yes I did name home girl after me, Im not that creative 😩. I also feel like I lost the plot...

Any tips are very much welcomed!